


tacks for snacks

by butatleastshe (rhythmoftherain)



Category: Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: BIG TRIGGER WARNING- SUICIDE, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Ryden, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, TW: CUTS AND BLOOD, TW: OVERDOSING, TW: Self Harm, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmoftherain/pseuds/butatleastshe
Summary: brendon and ryan both want to forget.





	tacks for snacks

"watch your mouth," he sneered. "you'll want to give up my ghost with a little more poise than that."   
ryan smiled at what was his father, unable to do anything else, unable to breathe, unable to live.  
he climbed the stairs, wanting to forget what once was the hospice for a few hours, wanting to forget it all forever.  
he could stutter something profound, and yet no one would care.   
it would just bring him one step closer to hell.   
his room was a mess as he entered it, a wreck of teenage boy that screamed "GET ME OUT OF HERE" behind the socks all over the floor. ryan saw no point in cleaning up the socks. it wouldn't matter in a few hours. nothing would matter. nothing matters.  
he collapsed on the bed just before someone knocked on his window  
ryan got out of bed, groaning, barely able to walk, barely able to think. brendon stared at him through the glass, eyes teary, and ryan found his breathe again.  
he quickly unlocked the window and pulled it up, still locking eyes with brendon.   
"what's wrong?" he whispered to the smaller boy as he climbed into ryan's bedroom. he was a mess; wearing jagged red lines like bracelets and purple bruises like tattoos.  
brendon whimpered, curling up as he pulled his arms over his knees. there was blood on his jeans and- oh god, what if he had died? ryan sat down next to him, putting his arm around brendon's shoulders. "b, what's wrong? i can help."  
brendon wouldn't even meet his eyes.  
"hey." ryan put his hand under brendon's chin, softly lifting his head so they could make eye contact, even though brendon wouldn't look at him. tear tracks were still visible on his face. "hey, it's gonna be okay. whatever it is, it's gonna be okay."  
the smaller boy finally looked up, looking like he was about to cry again (or for the third time), looking like he was about to come undone, looking like he wanted his heart to just  
stop  
then and there so he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. and ryan knew. he automatically knew. he automatically wanted to go beat up brendon's father, wanted to scream at him and make the fucker feel all the pain brendon was going through right now.  
but he didn't. that would hurt brendon more.  
so he let brendon lean on him, wiping away his tears and whispering affirmations in his ear.   
"it wouldn't be hard," ryan breathed, so quiet that neither of them heard it. so quiet that he didn't even realize how easy it would be until minutes later, with brendon still curled up in his arms.  
"it wouldn't be hard," he mumured to brendon, his brendon, the star that isn't bright enough, the planet that isn't spinning fast enough, the boy that doesn't matter enough.  
brendon laughed, a choked laugh that should belong to someone three times his age. "you think i don't already know that? you think i don't think about that every goddamn day of my miserable life?" he burst free of ryan's grip, at his feet in a second. as he reached his hand down to ryan, ryan knew this was the end.  
"wanna try?"  
ryan smiled, eyes dead, brain dead, limbs and arms and everything dead besides his heart. and his heart wanted him to die. "i have razors and tylenol and bleach in the bathroom."  
brendon smiled back, looking more yet less sad than 5 seconds ago, trying to let himself feel since it was the end. he felt alive for the first time in years.  
ryan didn't know brendon wasn't as dead as he was.  
hand in hand, the broken boys walked to the bathroom, locking the door. ryan reached underneath the cabinets into his secret stockpile, his fairytale land he visited whenever he wanted to stop feeling. or start feeling. but it felt all wrong with brendon.   
this was all wrong.  
he look at brendon, but the boy was euphoric, smiling, eyes alight. he couldn't make him sad. not again.   
brendon grabbed a bottle of tylenol as ryan handed him a razor. winterboys with freezing souls, locked in the bathroom to make snowmen out of themselves.  
brendon lurched forward, planting a small kiss on ryan's lips.  
"i've always wanted to do that," he murmured, sinking to the floor.  
ryan's always wanted to do that too.   
"wait, brendon- is this really a good idea?" ryan's life was coming back to him. he got his thoughts back, he got his common sense back, he got his love for brendon back.  
and then ten minutes passed in one, as he looked at the boy sitting on the floor, the broken boy covered in bruises and cuts and reopened cuts, the beautiful boy he loved who was about to be full of tylenol and bleach.  
"brendon- please." ryan wanted to knock the bleach out of his hands, but he couldn't. he wanted brendon to be happy. that's all he wanted. but he wanted him alive. to be selfish or selfless. is it selfish to keep someone alive?  
brendon poured out tylenol onto his blood-covered hands. "aren't you happy, ryan? it's about to end. all of it's about to be over."  
"bren, why would you want that? please, brendon- for me."  
brendon looked up, a beautiful wreck with tearstained cheeks and hollowed eyes that had an appointment at the morgue tomorrow.   
"don't leave me alone, brendon, please! you help me forget. you always do." tears fell onto the floor as ryan tried to crawl towards his brendon, his bren, vision all blurry, everything all wrong.  
"i love you ryan."  
ryan wiped his eyes just in time to see brendon down fifty tylenol and a gulp of bleach.  
brendon sniffed. "i can already feel it kicking in."  
"brendo-"  
"don't call 911. please, ry. this is what i want. this is how it has to be." the boy with cuts for bracelets and bruises for tattoos closed his eyes. "can you hold my hand? you're the one thing i'm gonna miss."   
"i love you brendon. but i fucking hate you for doing this to yourself."  
honey colored eyes opened to stare at ryan, the last thing they would see, the last thing they would care about. "i could never hate you ryan. i love you so much."  
the honey eyes  
closed  
and ryan's heart  
stopped  
as he reached for his phone and dialed 911, wanting to scream, wanting to bring back brendon.  
brendon's grip loosened and   
ryan fell apart and  
he said the same words over and over again as he fell apart,  
splitting into a million pieces,  
each with brendon's name on it.  
"i am alone in this bed, house, and hand.  
he never fixes this,   
but at least he makes me

 

forget."


End file.
